


The Fall of Atlas

by chaoticamanda



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Closure, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, Suicide, canon compliant so far
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:15:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4404014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticamanda/pseuds/chaoticamanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper Pines is seventeen when he looks at his twin sister, his best friend, and realizes for the last time that he will never be able to compete. He’s thought this before, but this is the first time it really resonates within him and sends a shiver down his spine.<br/>Mabel Pines is seventeen when she stops loving surprises. In fact, she loved them until she caught sight of her brother slumped against the base of the tower, thick blood puddling around him and the blue journal sitting strikingly pristine on his lap, opened to the final page.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall of Atlas

Dipper Pines is seventeen when he looks at his twin sister, his best friend, and realizes for the last time that he will never be able to compete. He’s thought this before, but this is the first time it really resonates within him and sends a shiver down his spine. He’s long abandoned the journals by now, long abandoned everything and anything that had to do with Gravity Falls.

Of course, he still went with Mabel every summer, because she had somehow not realized that he couldn’t breathe when he was inside the shack, couldn’t look either of the Stans in the eye. Instead of trying to solve the town’s mysteries, he let them lie. He had a journal still, but it was filled with stories that he wrote so he wouldn’t have to process the ugly face of the town.

He was in Gravity Falls the moment he realized his inferiority with such finality. Stan adored Mabel, that had always been clear, but since he now had his brother somewhat back, he seemed to cherish her even more.

It made Dipper sick to look at him.

Stan had let Mabel loose on an event to promote business at The Shack. She was failing pretty spectacularly, but people were loving it anyway. Of course they did.  How could they fault Mabel Pines when there was her lowly brother to kick around?

No one actually kicked him-- not since he’d been thirteen, but he heard their whispers about him. Somehow they had taken to hurting worse than those petty punches and kicks ever could.

_Did you **see** him standing there frowning the whole time? I can’t believe they’re related. She’s so...so bright, and he’s just a big ol’ rain cloud._

_Why does he even come around anymore? All anyone cares about is her._

_My heart aches to think of such wasted potential._

Wasted potential is a concept he’s very familiar with, has been dealing with the repercussions of ever since Ford returned from an another dimension. Ford is still bitter, and no matter how much Mabel has tried, he’s not going to change. Dipper’s locked the Author’s angst away with the rest of Gravity Falls to keep himself from being sucked into the war the two brother’s were always fighting against each other.

Dipper’s own journal bore no resemblance to Ford’s journal, something he had taken great pains to make so. It is a muted blue color, made of a soft, pliant material that molds to Dipper’s fingertips when he holds it. He doesn’t let anyone read his stories, only mumbles that he’s writing them at all. Dipper doesn’t feel the need to be criticized and held up against his sister in yet another aspect. He knows that he can’t rival her imagination, of all things, but with his stories he feels he doesn’t have to. Mabel had tried to read them once, but Dipper had stopped speaking to her for a week afterward, and she hadn’t tried again.

When he loses himself in his writing, he doesn’t have to think about how he will never be the better twin, will never amount to much more than Mabel’s brother. That used to  be enough for him, but his core was growing weary, desperate to feel _something_ other than irrelevance. It was coming to such a point that Dipper could barely even find a breath between his tears, could barely hold back his worst thoughts.

On good days, he would wake up and smell the fresh air of the forest, and not feel the ache of loss when Mabel was already out and about doing her best in the world. Instead, his _fingers_ would be aching, plots to characters paving their way through his mind.

On bad days, he would let his words out in a different way. It was hard to find excuses not to snatch Ford’s xacto knife from his office and set the blade to his skin. They had quickly devolved when no one noticed the thin red lines decorating his forearms.

_I shouldn’t do this. Mabel wouldn’t want this._

_Hurting myself isn’t going to fix anything._

_Mabel will notice, and then she’ll make a huge deal out of it._

_Stan might sit me down and try to have a talk with me._

_They’re not ignoring me. They’re just busy. Doing this again will only make it more obvious._

_What would they think of me now?_

_Doing this is like letting Bill Cipher win._

_What if Soos sees them? He’ll cry._

_Hurting myself can’t fix everything._

_Who cares?_

_All those people are right._

_I’m sorry._

Today, he already knew, was going to be a bad day. The summer’s end was nowhere near approaching, and Gravity Falls had yet to cease suffocating him. The damaged skin on his forearms was burning, and the air in the shack was thick with dust and tension, as per usual. Stan was in the kitchen when Dipper wandered down. “Hey, kid,” was his formal greeting.

“Hi, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper answered monotonously, not sparing a glance at the old man.

“So, your eighteenth birthday is coming up, how ya feel about that? Must be...interesting.” Dipper was surprised at his Great Uncle’s interest, especially when the man had been kicked out of his own home at eighteen.

“Sure,” Dipper answered, “Interesting.”

“I’m surprised that Mabel’s never kicked up a fuss about having to share a birthday, being how she is. I tried once, but my dad...well, he knocked some, uh, sense into me. Anyways, I know you’re not the type really, but any plans for the big one eight?”

Dipper started, his brows furrowing together. “Big plans,” he echoed back, before blinking at his uncle. “I gotta go.”

In truth, Dipper had given up on imagining any future for himself. Once he had wanted to be scientist that could change the world with his discoveries. Dipper _had_ discovered his fair share of things now, but his thirst for that kind of knowledge shrank under the weight of Gravity Falls. What kind of future could be had for a person who made all the wrong choices, who was nothing but a speck in his sister’s shadow?

A strikingly clear thought rang through Dipper’s head, instilling a sense of calm he’d never felt in this shack. He shuffled his arms so he could retrieve his journal, heading off into the forest. There was a spot he would frequent, where the abnormalities of the town seemed scarce and Dipper could think in peace.

When he found the small patch of clear land, he plopped down and dug for his pen. He loved his sister. He wanted the best for her, and all he’d ever done was drag her down. So when he set the black pen to the paper, he was convinced that what he would do would be for her benefit.

_~~Mabel~~ To Whom It May Concern,_

_This is going to be the last thing I write.  If you know me, then you know that this journal is filled with stories, mostly inspired by the things I’ve seen in this godawful town. I’ve come to realize that my story is finished, which prompts this letter. I’ve been coming to Gravity Falls over the summer for five years now, and things have drastically changed here, for me, at least. When I was twelve, the world was at my fingertips. I was naive, and stupid, and I made all the wrong choices. I’ve still been doing that, but I think what I do next may make up for that. I hope so. I gave everything to this town, so I guess it’s fitting that it be my final destination, a pun I hope you can excuse. The weight of this world has been crushing me, and I can’t hold it anymore. A surprise to no one, I am giving up. But I’m not just doing that-- I’m giving all of you, anyone who reads this, a pass. For everything you’ve said, for everything you’ve done, I will take it all. Do yourself a favor, and let this mystery, and all of the others, lie in the ground where they belong. I….I don’t really know what else to say. Mom, Dad, Stans...take care of Mabel, keep loving her. I think this will make it even easier for you to. No more pretending. Mabel, I love you. I hope you have a birthday full of everything you’ve ever wanted. I hope you can have a life with everything you want now that I won’t be dragging you down. You can have my journal, if you want it. I don’t need it anymore._

_Goodbye,_

_Dipper Pines_

He let the journal fall to a close, smiling genuinely for the first time this summer. Everything seemed so simple now, and the harshness of his wrists had faded.

 

Dipper had been acting weird-- well, he was always weird, but weirder than normal. He’d actually _smiled_ at her when he came through the front door with his bag slung over his shoulder. She’s been floored that he was smiling, hoping that he’s finally found something besides isolating himself and writing that could make him happy. When she asked why he was so happy, and if she could participate, because she missed his laugh, he only told her to meet her at the water tower later in the afternoon.

She was there now, practically buzzing with excitement. Maybe he finally wanted to go on another adventure, maybe he wanted to have a picnic. Either way it was a surprise, and Mabel loved surprises. In fact, she loved them until she caught sight of her brother slumped against the base of the tower, thick blood puddling around him and the blue journal sitting strikingly pristine on his lap, opened to the final page.

 

Dipper had read Harry Potter before. It was Sirius Black’s words that were on his mind as he lay against the tower, his arms limp on either side of him. Dying, it turned out, was not as easy or quick as falling asleep. It was harsh, and burning, and hot, and it made sobs ball in his throat until it was hard to breathe. It was also taking longer than he’d expected, though the world was beginning to darken now. His breath was coming in shudders, but that was mostly from crying. Just

a

little

bit

closer.

 

“Mabel, you have to eat,” Stan murmured, his large hand coming to rest on her shoulder. Though she was no longer twelve, she was still somewhat small, and his hand covered most of her skin where it rest.

Mabel shook her head in response, red-ringed eyes staring vacantly down at her brother’s journal.

“Sweetheart--”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, her eyes blinking back into focus. “It’s my fault.”

Stan softened, leaning down on his aching knee and shoving away the bile rising in his throat. “It’s not your fault Mabel. Dipper...was _sick.”_

“Exactly!” her face seemed to droop, pushing closer to Stan’s as she tried not to let her tears impede her speech, “He was so, so sick, and I-- I didn’t even notice! I’m his twin!”

“Mabel,” Stan said softly, tears burning behind his own eyes, “We can’t change what happened. Dipper would want you to eat, so you can actually see him when he wakes up.” If he wakes up.

Stan stood again, ignoring the crack his knee made and hobbling back to his own seat in the waiting room. Ford was next to him, staring thoughtfully at the linoleum. Stan’s fingers tightened on his legs as he looked toward the doors Dipper had been wheeled through. _It’s my fault, I brought up his birthday, he must have been upset somehow, I should have talked to him, I should have noticed, I should have--_

“Stanley,” Ford’s voice cut through Stan, his eyes jerking to his brother’s. “You’re shaking the chairs.” And so he was, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Excuse _me,”_ he bit out, “for being worried about my nephew.”

“Shaking chairs in a waiting room isn’t going to--”

“Then what _is?”_ Stan barked, not bothering to see if he’d upset other people in the waiting room, “Any ideas? Probably not! You don’t know what it’s like to _care_ about your family!”

Hurt flashed across Ford’s face, quickly followed by anger, “I care about Dipper just as much as you do!”

“Maybe if you’d show it once in awhile I’d believe you!” Stan growled, jabbing a finger in his brother’s face.

“If you’d done the same, maybe we wouldn’t be here,” Ford sneered, before realizing what he’d said. He reached out to his brother as Stan stood, his face a very pale white, “Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--”

Stan walked away without a word.

 

Being dead was strange, Dipper found. It felt very much like when Bill had possessed his body, and Dipper’s consciousness had been thrust out. He supposed that maybe he wasn’t completely dead. _Good job, Dipper,_ he thought to himself, _you even messed up your own suicide._

He was currently standing next to his own body, which was plastered with tubes and tape on a hospital bed. He thought he certainly _looked_ dead, but an overheard conversation between Stan and the doctor revealed that he had lost too much blood, and if he did manage to wake up, which had been deemed unlikely, he would not be the same. In conclusion, he was almost-but-pretty-much-dead.

Mabel was the first visitor. She tumbled into the room by herself, scrambling onto a chair and taking one of Dipper’s cold, motionless hands. “I’m so _sorry,”_ she choked, before completely losing it. Dipper softened, cursing the fact that he had made her cry. He was glad that his arms had been taped up, so she couldn’t see the damage he’d began even before today. She began to mumble through her tears, and the room was so quiet that he didn’t have to lean in to hear her. “This is my fault. I-- I never _listen_ to you, Dipper. Did you try to tell me? God, you probably did, but I was too dumb to notice, too caught up in trying to do everything...I wanted to do everything with you, bro-bro. You were...are my best friend. I can’t say-- there’s not enough sadness in the world to tell you how sorry I am. I can’t lose you. I love you, I love you, we’re supposed to be the Mystery Twins. _Forever._ Please, Dipper, oh God, please don’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be alone. I _need_ you.”

If Dipper could still cry, he would have. He settled for talking back at her, as if she could hear him, “I love you, Mabel. I...I wish things could have been different, but it’s...it’s too late. You can be great, I know you can. You’re going to be so successful, and so happy...more than you could ever be with me. Don’t...don’t waste your life for some dum-dum like me.”

 

The next visitor, to Dipper’s surprise, was Ford. Stan had practically dragged Mabel out of the room, forcing her to go get something to eat. He’d said, a bit untactfully, that Dipper would not be going anywhere.

When their other Great Uncle had slipped in, Dipper had practically jumped up in surprise. “H-hello, Dipper,” the greying man said self-consciously to the boy on the bed, “Stan told me your situation. I...I just wanted to talk to you before your parents come.”

The old man sat in the same chair Mabel had pulled up, knotting his hands together. “I’m not very good with people. Nevermind kids. But...I understand you, Dipper. After all that’s happened to you, I understand. I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t see that you were upset, maybe lonely. I didn’t know that you were this bad, _please_ believe me. If I had...maybe I could have helped. Maybe someone could have.” The Author’s tone was soft, but then it became venomous, “But that doesn’t matter. You’re here. We’re going to--” Ford swallowed the lump in his throat, “We’re going to _lose_ you, Dipper. I don’t want to lose you. I...Mabel’s wonderful and weird, but you are everything that I wish I could have been. I admire...I love you, Dipper. I wish I had the courage to say that when you could still hear me.” Ford took a deep breath and removed his glasses, wiping his eyes.

Dipper was stunned, and he stood across from the man he’d once idolized with a slacked jaw. “I...I believe you, Grunkle Ford. Please...do your best to take care of them. You need them as much as they need you.”

 

Stan came into the room as slowly and quietly as he possibly could, flinching when he saw his nephew’s body. He ignored the chair and knelt on the floor, resting his elbows on the edge of Dipper’s bed. “Hey, kid.”

Stan was silent for a few minutes before he began to cry, tears tumbling down his cheeks more than Dipper had ever seen. “S-soos wanted me to tell you to stay strong. He...he’s not doing too good right now. He’s trying to get back here with his wife, but their flight’s even longer than your parents’. They gave Mabel some stuff to help her sleep."

“I...I promised that I would take care of you two, every summer. You guys kept me going. I know that...Stanley Pines is a loser. But being your Grunkle Stan made me feel like I could actually be something good. I...I wasn’t though, or else we wouldn’t be here, huh?” He laughed, and then patted Dipper’s hand, “You…you’re stronger than most of us, kid. I know you didn’t...didn't know what to believe five years ago, and I don’t blame you. I don’t blame you for anything in the world. I just...I just want you to come back to us, believe me. You and Mabel are the only family I really have left.”

Dipper walked around the bed, putting his own hand on his Great Uncle’s shoulder, and giving a weak smile. “I love you too, Grunkle Stan. You’ll...you’ll make it through. You’re strong enough. You’re not just a great uncle, you’re the greatest.”

 

Dipper didn’t notice when the girl appeared in the room next to him, to focused on watching his family huddled in little plastic chairs and trying to sleep. At first, he thought it was Wendy, but this girl had a rounder face and a pale blue dress fit for the 1700s. She looked right at him, something he didn’t expect, and murmured, “Are you ready?”

“Ready?” he asked, backing away from her. “Ready for what?”

“Well, it’s…a new place. Full of mystery.”

“I’ve had enough mystery for a lifetime,” he said firmly, glancing back at his family.

“Well,” the girl glanced at Dipper’s body, “I guess it’s good that it’s over then.”

Dipper would have blushed if he could have, taken aback by her bluntness. She looked maybe a year older than him, but something in her tone suggested she was much older. “What happens if I go?”

The girl looked at him with an expression he could not place, but guessed was close to amusement, “You’ll die. Move on.”

“I…” Dipper looked at Mabel, her sobs echoing in his mind. “Will it hurt?”

“No,” she said firmly, and then scrunched her face together, “It’s like….falling asleep, I guess. Easy as that.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Dipper snorted, rolling his eyes. The girl’s patience was wearing thin, he could tell.

“Look, we’ve got to go. I want to get back. You need to get there.”

“What happens if I don’t?” Dipper asked looking around the small room.

“You fade, and then you disappear.”

“Oh…” Dipper looked at Mabel, and then at his lifeless body. “How do we get there?”

“Don’t worry,” she grinned, “We just will.”

“Okay, I guess.” Maybe he did have it in him for a little more mystery. He stepped towards his sleeping sister and pressed a kiss to her cheek, “Good-- Goodbye, Mabel. Take care of them.”

The girl held out her hand to Dipper, and he took it hesitantly. “What’s your name?”

“Beatrice,” she grinned, turning them towards the door, “Close your eyes.”

“O-Okay.” He did. When he opened them, he was in a clearing, and Beatrice’s hand was gone. There was an old house with a small mill next to it, and in front of that, were three people. The first was Beatrice, who gave him a reassuring smile, and stood next to her were two boys; one young, and one that looked around his age. They were smiling at him too.

“Welcome to the Unknown, Dipper Pines.”

 

Mabel Pines sat alone in the attic she had once shared with her twin brother. Her parents were downstairs, trying to figure things out, trying to make it through their grief. In her hands, she clutched the blue journal that her brother had kept closer to his heart than anything else. He'd once stopped talking to her when she'd tried to read the things he wrote within it. Now, it was all she had left of him. She stood on wobbly legs and fell onto his bed, wrapping herself up in his blankets and letting her fingers glide over the smooth material of the journal. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she opened it to the first page, and began her brother's story, determined to read from the beginning, to now-- his very end.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, this doesn't really line up with otgw. i started this fic months ago and discovered it today and made it what it is, so the ending was less than thought out. i still like it though, i think, and i hope that you do too. comments/kudos are very much appreciated.


End file.
